When Jim practiced his regimen, he told himself it was all for Bonnie. Roy Pickens down the street was a man who had let himself go. He was friendly and jolly like Santa Claus, but he had a belly and little breasts like Santa Claus, too. Jim wasn’t going to let that happen to him. He ran six miles five days a week, and three miles on the other two. He would swim at the aquatic center most evenings after work, and he always made sure to be in bed by nine o’clock so that he could sleep for a healthy eight hours and wake up for his strict routine of crunches and weights at the gym. Now when he gazed at himself in the mirror, he could count six perfect sections in his rectus abdominis and trace the lithe, slender shape of his torso. He was happy, and the other women looking at him while he was at the gym made him feel sure that Bonnie should be proud to be seen with him. That was why he couldn’t understand when he went home early one day to find her sharing their bed with Roy Pickens. He’d been excited to sweep her off her feet like on the cover of one of those paperback romances, but all he could do when he got there was stare back and forth between the two pairs of frightened eyes and the large underwear on the floor.
"Matt Anderson lives in north Georgia with the love of his life, who graciously reads everything he produces. Sometimes numerous times. It's a wonder she hasn't murdered him." Contact Matt.